It Ends With Coffee
by Aurora-swan
Summary: "What are you doing in London? I would like to imagine I'm the reason but I would never dare to be that positive." He giggled to himself, rubbed a big hand up and down Arthur's spine when he heard something he did not quite expect. Arthur was suddenly sobbing. Loudly. Tags: minor characters death, developing relationship, slash
1. Chapter 1

"Eames?" The voice sounded cracked, like the person it belonged to had seen thing it shouldn't have.

It was the middle of the night when he'd picked up the phone. He hadn't really though about it as he'd reached for it. It seemed like he'd just gotten used to it through out the years to just press the button and put it to his ear.

"Eames, are you there?"

Eames cracked his eyes open and stared out over a dark flat. His flat. It was sad that he didn't recognise it from the first look.

"Yeah." he croaked and rolled over to his back, directed his eyes to the lightened street outside his window. It took him another moment to remember that he was in Essex. And yet another before he recognised the voice. "Arthur, is that you?" The voice on the other side of the phone whimpered and Eames sat up on the bed. "Arthur?"

"I..." the voice croaked airily. "I'm in London."

"You're in London?" Eames questioned and threw his legs over the side, a wrinkle settling between his brows. "What are you doing in London, darling?"  
"I was..." Arthur sighed and Eames heard the sound a car horn somewhere in the background. "Um. Could I come over?" Eames turned on the lights in the bedroom and looked around. His studio apartment was a mess. And not to talk about wee as a shoebox.

"Sure. Take a cab, alright. You'll be here in just under two hours."

"Two hours." Arthur sighed, the connection crackling a tad in time with a siren echoing. "Okay."

* * *

Eames did what he could to make the flat look somewhat presentable. He tossed the dirty clothes in the hamper, cleaned away the outdated newspapers, put the dishes in the sink. He dressed himself in the only pair of trousers without stains because Arthur was a bloody perfectionist. the man didn't really need a bombsight of filth on his mind right now.

The last thing he did was trying to cover up some of the smell with newly brewed tea and air freshener before there was a knock on the door. He turned on the lights in the hallway and hurried over to the door, took just a second or two to calm himself as he reached out and put his hand behind his back two wrap his fingers around his gun. Just in case. But there was no one else but Arthur standing on his welcome matt as he swung the door open. Hair in a mess, his clothes rumpled and a bag at his side, there was no doubt that this was his darling Arthur.

The man's shoulders seemed to drop several inches at just the sigh of Eames and he stepped into the flat. His bag dropped to the floor with a soft thump and sighed loudly.

"Eames." he said in a whisper and circled his arms around him, wrapped himself around his waist like sheet before burying his face to the nape of his neck

"Hey." Eames frowned, but did not miss the opportunity to pull Arthur close for the first time in two years.

The last time they'd seen each other they'd said their goodbyes with sloppy kisses on an airport in LA. Eames was going one way, and Arthur the other. Their contacts had been limited to texts and maybe an occasional email with simple updates of their lives.

'There where rules to this sort of thing', Arthur had said as they'd decided not to develop their relationship to anything more than being friends. 'Follow them and we'll avoid hurting ourselves and each other'. A relationship on such a distance could never end well.

Right now they seemed to be breaking every single unwritten rule they'd ever made.

"Arthur." Eames whispered back and turned his head until his nose touched the wavy hair. It still smelled of expensive gel, only it had lost its purpose several hours ago. "What are you doing in London? I would like to imagine I'm the reason but I would never dare to be that positive." He giggled to himself, rubbed a big hand up and down Arthur's spine when he heard something he did not quite expect.

Arthur was suddenly sobbing.

Loudly.

His face still buried to the nape of Eames neck he cried shamelessly in his arms and the clearness Eames though he'd had of the situation flew out the window. Arthur's appearance in England was now a bigger mystery than ever.

And Arthur cried.

"I am so sorry!" he cried loudly and dug his nails into Eames back as if he tried to crawl under his skin.

"Oh Arthur." Eames whispered and pressed a loving kiss to his temple without thinking. He carded a hand through his messy waves, noticed the stubs of a several day old scruff scratching his neck as Arthur snuffled closer. "What's happened?"

The question only made Arthur cry harder and his small sobs and cries started to get into a whole new level of panic. "Oh, darling." This was the moment Eames started to understand that Arthur was beyond any help he actually had the energy to give right now. It seemed right now like this was a problem that wouldn't be solved any time soon and Eames sighed in despair.

"You look knackered." he whispered sadly and swayed back and forth on the spot as he cradled poor Arthur. "Would you like to lie down. We don't have to talk about it right now if you don't want to."

Arthur had a moment of thought and recollection, he swallowed a couple of sobs before he could breathe properly again and he nodded. Pulling back he wiped his heavy tears and his nose; stared blindly at his feet as he repressed the sorrow within him for a short moment. Maybe he tried not to think about whatever happened.

"Come." Eames murmured and led him into the tiny flat and Arthur didn't think twice before he steered off to the bed.

Arthur landed heavily on the mattress. He made himself at home, and Eames didn't mind. He would never mind having Arthur this close and as he saw the man crawl up on the bed he realised that his former thought on kipping on the sofa was a bad idea. The man was curled up like a kitten, staring emptily at air and shaking from something that wasn't the cold. Eames reached out and placed a warm hand on his shaking shoulder.

"May I hold you?" he asked poor Arthur who sighed loudly before blinking with his brown eyes. He nodded, wiped some more tears as Eames crawled up behind him and the man wrapped his arms around his waist and held him close, buried his nose in his hair and took a deep breath as Arthur entwined their hands over his chest. This was how they used to spend their time in all of those hotels rooms. Curled around each other, small kisses, warm cuddles. Sometimes an occasional fuck. But times were different now. After all they'd parted those years ago with a promise not to start anything they couldn't finish. They'd kept contact, but the flirting had to stop. Someone was bound to get hurt.

"I've missed you." Arthur whispered as Eames pulled the cover over them. "I've missed you so much." He was breaking into tired sobs again, his nails digging into Eames' hands.

"You don't even know the half of it." Eames smiled and nuzzled the spot behind his ear with the tip of his nose. "I'm afraid I'll wake up tomorrow and you're not here." He felt Arthur shudder against him as the sobs started up again, wrecking through him with great power and Eames felt a lump of worry land in his chest. "Darling." He pulled him a little closer and kissed his neck. "Whatever happened, I'm so sorry." Arthur let out a long, aching whine and buried the side of his face deep into the pillow.

"Oh god!" he yelled, completely broken and ruined. He moaned and let Eames wrap his legs around him as well. "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Eames whispered. "Don't be sorry, darling." He rubbed a hand across his chest, felt his heart beating like a drum being his ribs and his lungs fight for air.

"My sister died." Arthur moaned and sniffled miserably and pulled Eames' hand a little closer to his chin. Eames tensed, pursed his lips before letting out a huge breath through his nose.

"Oh Arthur." he whispered and rubbed his thumb across his collarbone. "Oh dear Arthur. I'm terribly sorry."

"I was in Germany." Arthur said, calming a little now as what he'd been holding inside of himself finally was set free. "I was doing a job when my mother called." He sighed loudly and bowed his head so he could press a small kiss to his fingers. "My sister is... was an exchange student here in England." He made a sound as he choked on a sob and Eames kissed his neck as he felt ever so sorry for him. "She was declared brain dead yesterday and... I arrived this afternoon. I didn't even have time to see her before they started questioning about organ donations."

"Jesus christ." Eames gasped.

"Our parents haven't even boarded the plane yet and she's already dead." Arthur sobbed. "I had an hour to say my goodbyes before they took her. She died on the table two and a half hours ago." He wiped his tears."God, I have to call them."

"They haven't gotten on the plane yet?" Eames asked just in time for Arthur to have another breakdown.

"I don't fucking know!" Arthur yelled in pain and started sobbing hysterically in his arms. The man behind took a deep breath and nuzzled the back of his hair with his nose. He felt like crying himself. It was truly a tragedy that had taken place tonight.

"I am so sorry, Arthur." he whispered. "I really am. If there anything I can do just..." Before he could end that sentence Arthur started to move. He tossed himself around until he was pressed chest to chest, his face buried to Eames' shoulder and his long arms wrapped around him. He cried some more. Everything that had happened these last couple of hours just poured out of him and Eames stayed quiet to let him get it all out. What he'd gone through was a terrible thing.

"I fucking signed the papers that finished her off!" Arthur cried and pulled at his shirt.

"You did it to save other people, Arthur." Eames said and carded thick fingers through his hair. "What you did was a brave thing. And I'm sure you sister thinks so too." Arthur moaned, too tired of everything. He's probably hadn't had a good sleep for days, and now it would only be harder for him to relax. He was exhausted. Completely worn out. Eames wondered if he'd even showered these last couple of days.

"God, I haven't even seen her for a years and then there she was. It'll be one hell of a family reunion." The man blinked tiredly, his sobs had turned into small moans and wines as he was now too tired for more than that.

"What happened to her?" Eames asked, a little afraid to do so but he had to clear some things in this mystery.

"I'm not sure, I wasn't really listening." he sighed and pulled back a bit to look up at Eames. "I think it was a car accident. I blame all of you british people. When will you learn to drive properly anyway?" Eames laughed a little and Arthur did too. Behind all of those tears the dimples showed, and Eames realised just then how much he'd missed him. A fingers caressed Arthur's cheek from the corner of his lip to his ear and Arthur smiled at him.

"You do realise that if the accident hadn't been this serious I would have made my way here anyway?" he slurred and moved his head a little closer until the tip of their noses where touching. Eames sighed.  
"We don't have to have this conversation now." he said sadly.

"We're not." Arthur said quickly and rubbed his hand over Eames' strong chest. "I'm just saying. I'm not here only because of what's happened. Well..." He rolled his eyes as he was about to contradict himself. "I'm in this hell of a country for a reason but if it wasn't such a tragedy I would still be here."

"You think so?" Eames asked and felt a spark of hope ignite in him. If that spark caused a fire he'd be in deep shit but right now he didn't care.

"I know so." Arthur sighed and wiped a bit of snot on the arm of his shirt. "I don't want you to think I'm only here for comfort. Even though you're the best at it."

"Of course I am." Eames smiled. "I'm english, I'm sorry about everything all the time." Arthur let out a sound between a laugh and a sob, licked his lips and braced himself so he wouldn't cry anymore. Eames thought that he was too tired for that sort of thing right now. "Think you could get some sleep?" Arthur looked at him, his brown eyes swimming in new tears he forbade to fall and Eames smiled sadly at him. "You can't have slept for days, darling. Just close your eyes and I'll be right here when you open them again." A small scoff slipped the man's lips but he finally closed his red rimmed eyes. Taking a deep breath he relaxed in Eames' strong arms and Eames reached for the table lamp behind him. It was the only source of light in his flat and soon enough complete darkness surrounded them when suddenly a small whisper was heard: "Thank you."

"No worries." Eames whispered back and closed his eyes as well.

* * *

"Eames?" He opened his eyes and was meet by a pair of brown eyes he knew much too well.

"Morning darling." he sighed happily. He wanted to wake up this way every morning if possible. "Did you sleep well?" Arthur hummed and crawled a little closer to him.

"If I've counted right my parents will be here in five hours." he croaked, clearly in pain from last night. "They don't even know yet."

"You haven't told them?"

"There was no time. They still think she's in that hospital fighting for her life."

"Fuck." Eames groaned and rolled his head on the pillow.

"It's gonna be one hell of a family reunion." Arthur said with an emotionless voice and curled up were he laid. He blinked and looked up at Eames. "Could you come?" This time he was more sincere than Eames had ever seen him before. "Eames, could you come with me? I can't go by myself." He took a huge breath and took Eames hand that rested on his chest.

"Arthur..."

"Please. I'm not asking you for anything more than a ride. I just..."

"I'll be there for as long as you need me." Eames said and squeezed his fingers. "Alright? For as long as you need me, I'll be there." Arthur smiled, brought his hand to his lips and kissed his fingers. "Now, would you like another hour of sleep and then have some proper english breakfast and a shower?"

* * *

Arthur didn't even have time to blink before Eames was on his feet. The smell of bacon and coffee hung in the air. Strong coffee; the type Arthur could not get back in America. As he turned the pain reminded him of what he was actually doing in Eames bed in the first place. This wasn't a social visit. His head sunk quickly back into the pillow again.

"Hello." Eames said with a thick british accent that made Arthur cringe where he laid. He was not in the mood for this flirting bastard this early in the morning. "Fancy some breakfast?" He did. Only his stomach did not. He reached for his phone and gave it a quick look to get a hang of the time. His parents would arrive at Heathrow in about four hours if the change of planes had gone successfully in Spain.

"Eames?" he sighed and fell back to the pillow smelling sweetly of Eames cologne. Right now he didn't want to be anywhere else, because this was where he always wanted to be.

Getting out of bed had never been this hard. The bed dipped and a big hand was placed on his shoulder.

"Darling?"

"I have to tell my parents." Arthur said simply and closed his eyes. There was no tears even if he felt like crying. He was dried out since yesterday it seemed.

"I know." Eames sighed and Arthur snuck his hand up his shoulder to take his own and entwine their fingers.

"I know I'm asking for much." he said with a heavy sigh. "But could you be there with me?"

"Arthur-"

"Please. I don't think I can do it on my own."

"Arthur." Eames murmured again and plopped down behind him, spooned him and wrapped his strong arms around him and Arthur felt shielded from the world. "I'll be there for as long as you need me, alright?" A huge breath left Arthur and he felt himself shrink in his arms.

"Thank you." he mumbled and circled his fingers around Eames wrist. "I don't think my parents would mind. Mom will probably just be relieved I wasn't on my own."

"You sure?"

Arthur nodded and it was enough for Eames to decide.

* * *

There were many things to do before leaving for the airport. Arthur, for example, took a well earned wash in Eames' louse shower after he'd swallowed down his egg white omelett with nothing more than a glass of water, while Eames himself brushed his teeth over the sink in the kitchen area. Not only because the bathroom was taken but also because the sink in there was currently, and undoubtedly, broken.

As Arthur looked into his suitcase he realised it wasn't only the towel around his hips that was damp. Taking a flight in the middle of a rainy day had taken its toll on all of his expensive suits and shirts. Luckily there was a pair of trousers at the bottom that had made it thanks to a plastic bag.

"D'you have a shirt?" he asked while pulling on a pair of pants as neatly as he could before quickly adding: "And one that those not look look like it comes from a fucking tourist shop."

Eames grinned and walked over to the wardrobe built into the wall where he found an old t-shirt from some forgotten brand.

"This okay?" he asked an flung it across the room. Arthur gave it a critical stare before deciding it was good enough. "I have a rental." Eames continued, pulling on his own shirt. "I should probably drive though." He turned towards Arthur and was quickly silenced. Because there he stood, the man he quite possibly loved, wearing nothing more than a pair of pants. He'd seen him naked before of course. But two years was a long time.

And time had done things to Arthur indeed.

His back was turned against him, and he could read him just as shitty as a cheap psychic reads a palm. The gunshot at the back if his arm was not new, but the web of skin had paled into a rather fine scar. Across his shoulder blade there was a new story. It could have been deep, he couldn't really tell more than it didn't look pretty. Without thinking he was suddenly tracing it with his finger.

"What happened there?" he asked and quickly removed his finger before it turned into more that just a friendly touch.

"Bullet." Arthur answered like it was nothing more than a scrubbed knee. "It just grazed me. Had to have stitched, though."

"Bugger." Eames said and frowned upon his odd choice of words. Arthur looked over his shoulder and grinned.

"Bugger indeed." he smiled and turned around while pulling the shirt over his head. It smelled of Eames and Eames knew it. As Freud would have said it was an unintentional intention of the unconscious mind. Arthur would surely be proud of him if he'd said that out loud. To bad he couldn't. "This is a fucking ugly shirt." Arthur scoffed as he looked down on himself.

"Not on you." Eames answered smugly which made Arthur smile at him. He couldn't express how much he wanted to kiss that smile off him.

"Your an idiot." he laughed.

"Couldn't agree more." Eames said. He was an idiot, because this was not the time to flirt with Arthur. The man had gone through an emotional trauma. What did Eames think he was doing?

"We should get going." he said quickly and moved over to the side table were his wallet waited for him. We should be at the gate an half an hour before your parents get there."

Arthur nodded in agreement and made his way for the hallway, totally forgetting about hit bag in the middle of the bed/living room. Eames stared at the bag as if it was an foreign object from outer space.

"Arthur?" he questioned with a frown. "Your bag." Arthur turned up in the doorway and peculiar look on his face.

"Oh..." he breathed and he looked between Eames and the bag. "Of course. I just..." He didn't finish that sentence before he picked up the bag and moved out to the hallway with a throat clearing sound.

"You just what?" Eames asked, feeling his stomach tightened as he hoped that Arthur was about to say what he wanted him to say. He follow him to the hallway and saw him standing on the carpet, bag in his hand looking utterly empty. "Arthur?" He sighed and looked up at Eames.

"I'm sorry." he said and furrowed his brow. "I shouldn't assume things. It's just been rough, you know." Eames smiled sadly and stepped forward to wrap his arms around him. The bag dropped to the floor with a thud and Arthur circled his arms around his neck.

"Would you like to stay?" he asked and couldn't help his smile as Arthur buried his nose to his shoulder. "For now?"

"I just..." Arthur moaned and swallowed the sob hurting his throat. "I can't be alone with my parents for that long. Less to say, live with them in a fucking hotel room for several days."

"You can stay, Arthur." Eames promised and rubbed a hand over his back. "It's alright, darling." Arthur let out a last painful moan before letting go of precious Eames.

"You sure?" he asked looking more tired now than when he arrived.

"Fuck off, Arthur." Eames scoffed and felt his heart skip a beat as Arthur let out a small laugh. The bag forgotten on the floor they left the flat.

* * *

It was a quite ride to Heathrow. Arthur did little less than staring out the window while Eames kept driving. It was a normal day for England, grey and wet. Eames enjoyed it because this was home, to Arthur it must seem depressing. He glanced over to his left, saw Arthur biting his nails that was already to short.

"You british people are idiot." Arthur mumbled around his fingers. "You even have to wright 'look right' on the streets because you know how wrong you drive." Eames laughed and shrugged.

"You have drive-through liquor stores." he countered and stopped by a red light. "It's like your government cries out for drunk drivers so they can get more money out of your fucked up healthcare system." He saw Arthur smile at the corner of his eye. That beautiful man.

"I hate you." he said and wiped his hand on his trousers.

"You love me." Eames smiled and continued driving without thinking about what he'd just said. They arrived at the airport ten minutes later and Eames stepped out to pay. He dropped in a couple of coins and turned back to the car, realising that Arthur hadn't even stepped out yet. Pursing his lips he moved over to his side, opened the door and ducked his head inside.

"Darling, we gotta go." he said and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I know." Arthur said quickly and nodded, not taking his eyes of his knees. He took a deep breath and let it out heavily while lowering his head. "Fuck..."

"I know, love." Eames sighed and carded a hand through his hair that lacked the normal amount of gel. "But we'll walk in there, have a cup of coffee, I can make yours irish if you want and then we'll move to the gate. We still got time."

"I don't care." Arthur cried and dug his fingers into his thighs. "I don't want to do this, Eames."

"I know." Eames said and pressed his lips to his temple. "But your parents are on that plane, darling. And they need to know what's happened."

"I signed the papers for the organ donation." Arthur cried. "I didn't even think it over. They said her heart was failing and that they couldn't wait! They couldn't even wait half a day." He started shaking and Eames took his hand in his. "What if they missed something? Maybe she was okay. She could have lived. She could have fucking lived!"

"Arthur." Eames sighed and wrapped his arms hard around him. "I'm sure the doctors did the right thing. And I'm sure your sister saved so many lives last night."

"I don't fucking care about other people." Arthur sobbed and pulled at his shirt.

"No, but your sister did. She was a nurse, right?"

Arthur drew a huge breath and bit down on Eames shirt so he wouldn't scream.

"It was a brave thing you did, taking a decision like that. Your parents will be proud."

"You don't know my parents." Arthur cried.

"No, but I know you." Eames whispered. "And since they've raised you into this perfect man, I'm sure they'll understand."

It took another fifteen minutes to get Arthur to calm down, and to get out of the car took some convincing. He had to tell him a dozen times that 'No, it did not look like he'd been crying' before Arthur nodded and stepped out. He stood on the curb, smothered his hair and clothes until he looked somewhat perfect again and he looked up at Eames.

"There's no time for coffee." he sighed heavily and sniffled.

"No there's not." Eames said and gave him a tissue he found in his jacket. Arthur wiped his nose and looked up at the airport before them.

"I hate my life." he sighed.

"That's what you get for being a perfectionist." Eames grinned and Arthur's eyes crinkled as he smiled.

"Asshole."

They hurried inside and to Arthur's surprise it was rather empty. There were a few people checking in their bags, some having their breakfast by Starbucks and some people were even drinking beers over at the bar. What Arthur wouldn't give for a whiskey right now. Or a blow to the head. Anything mind numbing.

"Spain." Eames said and pointed at the t.v screen upon the wall. "It's twenty minutes late. Coffee?" Arthur took his eyes of the screen and turned to Eames.

"Yes." he said simply and followed him to Starbucks. He ordered a caramel latte because he's a sweet tooth. Eames ordered a mocha with an extra shot of espresso. They sat down at a table with a look out of the terminal when Eames pulled out a biscotti from his sleeve. Arthur knew he should be laughing but he couldn't help it.  
"I'm a thief after all." Eames said and snapped it in half, passed the bigger piece to Arthur who accepted it despite the awful way Eames had acquired it. "Knew that would put a smile on you."

"You're despicable." Arthur said happily and dunked his piece in his milky drink.

"Wait." Eames said quickly and pulled his cup away from him, glanced over his shoulder before reaching into his pocket. A silvery flask appeared in his hand and he unscrewed the lid while keeping a weak lookout. "I promised you Irish, didn't I?" He poured some amber liquid into the cup and Arthur's smiled widened. "Not enough to get you drunk, but just to calm your nerves a bit, alright?" He hid the flask and pushed the cup back across the table, gazed upon Arthur with warmth and curled his fingers around the cup.

"Thank you." he said and licked his lips. He took a small sip and laughed happily. "You always have something down your pocket, don't you?"  
"Well, it's not a roll of quarters if that's what you mean." Eames answered and Arthur spurted into his coffee.

"Oh god." Arthur grinned and wiped his nose and mouth of foamy milk. "You asshole."

"I don't know what you mean." Eames said and sipped his coffee with a smug smile. He was suddenly finding himself thinking back on the last time they's had a coffee together. It was in the middle of autumn, pumpkin spiced lattes had just come in season and Arthur had been over the moon. Eames himself, who did not quite understand the rave, had ordered one anyway and found himself pleasantly surprised. It was nothing special, just unusual. It was more Arthur that had had him speechless that day since he seemed to have the same craze for this odd latte as every teenager in the same coffee shop. Anyway it had been a good day. It was the day before Eames plane left for England, they'd spent the night at a rather nice hotel after the job was finished. They'd spent the night kissing, talking and fucking. Then they'd come to the agreement that it shouldn't evolve. What did they really have to give? Arthur had his roots in Ohio, Eames' had his back in England. It wasn't much they could do but get hurt if they'd continued this fantasy.

They'd talked endlessly over that pumpkin spiced latte what the future held for them. That's when they'd decided that their contact should be limited.

Ten emails and some text messages later, here they were. Not where they'd left off, but something pretty close to it.

"I've missed you, you know." Arthur sighed suddenly after he'd finished this latte. "Not a day has gone by without me paying you a thought. How've you been?" Eames swallowed his mouthful of coffee. "I know I should have asked you sooner but... things been messed up." Eames waved it off.

"I've been fine." he said a little too quickly. "Well, when I say fine. I live in a shitty flat, in Essex I might add, and I'm still dyslectic." Arthur laughed and rubbed a hand to the side of his face. "How 'bout you?"

"I've been taking less jobs." Arthur answered and cleared his throat that was thick from the caramel. "The one in Germany is the first I've had since April. Otherwise I built myself a house."

"A house?" Eames gasped and nearly dropped his cup.

"Yeah." Arthur laughed happily. "A company bought one of my designs and I had enough to make my own come true. It's by the ocean. You should come there some day."

"I should." Eames smiled and felt how that little spark inside started to something it shouldn't. "Congratulations then. To the house."

"Thanks." Arthur sighed and looked upon Eames with something Eames wouldn't dare to call love.

The clock was suddenly striking ten and Arthur shrunk in his chair. It was time to move to the exit of the gate and his hands started to tremble again when his phone started ringing. He fished it out of his pocket and stared at the screen for a long time before answering.

"Hi dad." he said and blinked at the table. "Yeah, I'm here. I, um... Let's talk about that when I see you alright. I've sorted that for you so don't think about it." He sighed loudly. "Alright, I'll see you in a bit." He hung up and stood up. "They're here." He huffed a breath and stretched his back. "Feels like I'm walking the Green mile here."

"Well." Eames stood up and straightened his shirt and jacket. "Let's walk it together then." Eames turned on his heel and started walking out of the shop when Arthur did something Eames hadn't seen coming. Arthur took his hand, entwined their fingers like they'd been a couple for ages and Eames felt his heart beat quicker than it had in years. Maybe Arthur did this because he needed comfort in this situation he was in. But Eames hoped there was more than that.

He hardened his grip around him and walked out to reach the gate.

Hand in hand.

* * *

Thank you for reading! Please tell me what you think!


	2. Chapter 2

The people streamed out like a herd of animals once the plane had landed and they kept an open eye as the flock of people passed through the gates. Most of them looked as tired as Eames probably felt. On the other hand there was no one as tired as Arthur. His darkened eyes flickered blindly while people passed him. His hand was still entwined in the much larger one, his fingers sweating but Eames didn't care. The air is thin in the huge building, smells of fast food and coffee and it's annoying. Because this is not how Eames wants to meet Arthur's parents.

He'd dreamed once that he'd stand on the porch of a great, white, american house. Hold hands with Arthur as the door opens to a great hallway where to elderly people are standing greeting them with open arms and welcoming Eames to their family.

That scenario had flown passed them and now Eames' stomach hurt. This was not how he wanted to meet Arthur's parents.

"I'm sorry." Arthur said suddenly and pulled his hand free from his grip. "I wont put more thoughts in my parents head right now." It took Eames a moment but he managed to understand before he tried to reach for his hand again.

"Alright." he said sadly and cleared his throat while putting his hand deep in his pockets.

"I'm sorry." Arthur sighed and licked his lips. "I just..." He didn't have time to finish those words before a loud call was heard above the huge crowd of people and his eyes grew before he turned his head away from Eames.  
"Arthur!?" A woman came running towards them, he hair shifting in peppery grey and wrapped in a loose bun on her head, bouncing as she ran. "Arthur!" Arthur took off and they crashed into each other so hard Eames was afraid the older woman would tip backwards. The next thing Eames heard was just a bunch of incoherent mumble. Mother and son was wrapped together for the first time in months and when Eames saw the mother's hand skim across Arthur's back he saw love.

He stayed in the distance of two meters, watched as Arthur muffled his pained, little whimpers to his mother's shoulder, saw how knowledge filled the mother's eyes with a foggy grey and as she two seconds later broke down just as Arthur had done on Eames' doorstep. Her painted nails dug into her son's shivering shoulders and Eames had to look away. He couldn't anymore.

"Doris!?" a man's voice echoed and Eames turned his head to see the older man hurry through the mass of people with a big bag dragging behind him. He stopped the moment he saw the huge british man called Eames. There was a look of knowledge in the stare and Eames found himself breathless. Eames had never seen this man, but he knew it was Arthur's father. It was like looking at a future Arthur. His hair was speckled grey, slicked back and a pair of black glasses balanced on his nose.

The man suddenly blinked and turned to his wife and son.

"Doris?" The bag clattered as the metal handle hit the floor and without another word he hurried over and put his arms around them both. His glasses climbed up his forehead as he tucked his face between them, kissed Arthur's cheek and his wife's forehead. No one had to tell him because he knew. Eames could tell that he'd been expecting this.

"Oh my baby girl." Doris cried, probably more heartbroken than surprised. "My little Marianne."

Marianne, Eames thought. Just as pretty as Arthur's name. Their had probably been the edgy people of their age. None the less Marianne was now passed. Marianne was no more.

"I'm so sorry, mom." Arthur sobbed into her shoulder, muffled by the thick, fake fur on the hood of her parka. "I am so sorry."

People passing gave them odd stares, some of them held sympathy, some of them irritation. Eames wanted to rip all of their heads off. How dared they show anything towards the hurting family. This was not their business.

"It's alright, Artie." the older man said calmly and cupped his shoulder. "I'm sorry we weren't here in time. You shouldn't have been with her by yourself."

"I agreed to donate her organs." Arthur cried and lifted his heavy head to look at his beloved parents. He looked at their faces while tears rolled down his cheeks and his bottom lip trembled. "I am so sorry but I had to. They couldn't wait and I just signed. I didn't think I just..."

"It's alright." his father said and cradled his head. "It's alright, son. You did what you had to do." His father smiled and Eames wiped a couple of tears fleeing his eyes before anyone saw him. It was one of those fatherly smiled he'd heard about but never seen. Arthur's father was proud. So proud.

His mother wiped away his tears with shaking hands before straightening his jacked, pressed feathery kissed to his forehead and nose before taking his hands in hers.

"Marianne would have thanked you if she could, I'm sure." she whimpered and tipped her head until it rested upon her husband's shoulder.

Arthur sucked in a breath and sniffled miserably before reaching into his pocked for a napkin from Starbucks. He cleaned himself up the best he could, his body shivering and his breaths coming in small pants.

That's when Doris caught a glimpse of Eames and her eyes widened. It'd been a long time since Eames felt this uncomfortable. Clearly Arthur's parents saw something in him.  
"Arthur?" Doris questioned, her voice soft as if she was afraid to stumble upon something she could not return from. "Is this..."

"Yeah." Arthur croaked and turned around, his face a messy shade of pink and shiny of tears and snot. "This is Mr Eames."

The brit swallowed hard and tried to make himself smaller, his big form had a tendency to frighten people. Sometimes he wished he hadn't discovered the gym.  
"Eames." Arthur's mother said airily and swatted her tears away before hurrying across the stone floor. Her arms wrapped around Eames' thick neck and the man stiffened. "It's a pleasure to meet you at last, Mr Eames." Her greyish bun bounced to his cheek as he bent down just a bit so the poor woman didn't have to stand on her toes.

"Glad to meet you, too." he blurted out, finding his head pretty emptied of smart things to say.

"It's a relief to know that you've been taking care of our Arthur." she sighed and moved back just a bit to give him a look. Her eyes were dark as Arthur's, her cheekbones could cut someone and Eames smiled. She was a pretty woman; despite the obvious wrinkles of sorrow.

"Oh, I merely... gave him a place to sleep." It didn't sound like he wanted it to but it was the only thing he could think of. Doris gave him a loving smiled and suddenly Eames didn't care that he wasn't standing on a porch of a white, american house. Meeting Arthur's parents like this might not be how he'd dreamt, but it was nice. Despite what had happened.

"Eames." Arthur's father stepped closer and held out an hand, still not an ounce of sadness crossing his face. "Martin Solomon." Eames shook his hand firmly, nodded his head awkwardly as if he was trying to bow.

"Pleasure, Mr Solomon." he said politely suddenly realising something that made his heart skip a beat. He'd just gotten to know Arthur's last name and he looked passed the elder man to look at his friend. Arthur Solomon. The name of the most beautiful man in the world.

"Please." Mr Solomon said with a sad smile. "Martin. Just Martin."

It was a movement in the universe. Something in Eames had at this moments changed. He looked over at Arthur who bowed down to pick up his parents' bag while mr and mrs Solomon collected their passports to hide in Doris' handbag. Right here, right now, in the middle of a terminal, the sixth of august Eames fell in love with Arthur Solomon.

He could not pinpoint why or how, but Eames had now fallen into the deep dark hole he'd been avoiding for two years. Maybe it was because he'd only seen Arthur in his professional state before, and today he'd seen a complete different Arthur. This Arthur was full of love, he held his family dear and it was a wonderful thing to realise despite their mourning. He was caring, worrying, a wonderful man and Eames wanted little less than to sit down with his mother to look at his baby pictured. Eames wanted to be a part of this family.

"I've gotten you a room." Arthur piped up and his parents looked up from their papers. Their sad faces had been replaced with stress and Eames could very well understand that. They'd flown for hours only to find out that their beloved daughter was dead, they were in a country they weren't used to and they had no plans of anything for the upcoming days. "It's at Ritz, thought you could use something fancy."

"Oh, Arthur." his mother sighed and her shoulders dropped as one problem was out of the way. "You didn't..." But Arthur shook his head, let his father take the bag from him.

"It's already been payed for. It's yours for a week."

"But what about you?" his father asked worriedly and looked over his thick glasses. "You're not leaving, are you?"  
"No, no! I just..." He swallowed hard and looked over at Eames, his eyes screaming for his help and Eames stepped forward.

"I offered him to stay." he said waving apologetically; feeling stupid. "My flat is big enough for both of us and I thought it was a waste to spend money on another room." He was an idiot.

"I couldn't say no." Arthur said, sniffling a bit as he collected himself. "British charm." He said that like it would be enough for an explanation. "But I'll come down here every day, don't worry. We do've got some stuff to take care of after all." He sighed loudly as he thought about all the work they had to do. It pained Eames and all he wanted was to wrap his arms around him and hold him close.

"British charm, huh?" Martin smiled, his gaze flickering between the two younger men before him. "Very well then." He gave them a small laugh and wrapped his arm around his wife who still had heavy tears rolling down her cheeks. Despite everything, she was still happy to see her son again. "Guess we'll check in and freshen up then; before we go to the hospital."

"We need to get the boys some lunch, Martin." Doris said suddenly, elbowing her husband as a punishment for forgetting something so obvious and important. "We can't run around London on empty stomachs."

"I've got a car just around the corner." Eames put in quickly, wanting nothing else than move this conversation elsewhere. "I'll get you to Ritz. No charge." He gave Doris one of his charming smiles and Doris responded with a surprised laugh that he'd heard before, but from Arthur. It had the same ring, the same little clucking and Eames' smile turned into something less charming.

"Well, at least let us buy you some lunch for it." she smiled while sniffling. "I'm sure you could recommend a place."

"Oh, I don't want to be any trouble." he said and waved her words away, feeling his stomach turn in regret from his answer, but it wouldn't last long.

"Eames?" Arthur nearly gasped and grabbed him by his elbow, looking displeased.

"We're not taking no for an answer." Martin insisted, his eyes flicking between Arthur's grip and Eames' face, clearly suspecting something he shouldn't. Not yet at least.

* * *

The car ride to Ritz was as quiet as a graveyard and as always Eames' had that compulsory thought that maybe he could make them laugh somehow. He was glad he didn't open his mouth since this was not the time for his bad jokes. In the real world there was never the right for his jokes anyway.

He glanced carefully in the rear mirror, saw the elder couple hold their hands as they stared through their own window at the streets of London. They looked content, tired. Supposedly their daughter's death hadn't come as a surprise after all. It was an awful thought, Eames concluded and turned his eyes back to the road.

The Solomons stepped out of the car as he stopped at the ten minute parking outside the entrance of the hotel. Arthur left with them while Eames waited and right there and then he collapsed against the steering wheel. His forehead hit the imitation leather and he sighed long enough to create fog on the glass before him. It felt like he was ten years old again. That feeling in his stomach hadn't been there for a long time and as he closed his eyes an image of his father made it's appearance. He's flushed pigsface, breath stinking of cheap scotch and his eyes bleary. Eames' stomach turned and he carded fingers through his hair as he went back up for new air.

What had he really gotten himself into? Why did Arthur have to appear out of the blue all of the sudden. Why couldn't Eames' keep his feeling at bay and not fall in love with Arthur?

God how he loved Arthur.

He had since the first day he'd met him. It only took his until now to realise.

How in the world could Eames ever think he could stop those feelings for Arthur. It was the strongest thing he'd ever felt.

That when his phone beeped and he fished it out of his front pocket of his jeans, stared at the blinking screen only to see the same name clouding his mind. It was a small text message, two simple words.

"Thank you."

It was more than Eames needed to feel his stomach fire up from that little spark.

He was doomed.

* * *

He took them to a less fancy place not far from the hotel, where the parking was cheap and most of all available and he stepped out of the car quick enough to open the door for Doris who seemed surprised by his act.

"Not even Martin does that for me anymore." she giggled and stepped out, clutched the handbag close to her chest like a real tourist and Eames could sense the tenderness surrounding her.

"You're making me look bad, mr Eames." Martin joked, shaking his head a bit as he stepped out of the car.

"I'll be opening your door next time then, to even the score." Eames answered smugly and Martin laughed loudly, making Arthur jump at his side.

"Dad, please." he grinned, cheeks turning pink as his father's laugh echoed across the street. America was a big and open country, no one cared there. Things were different in England. Eames could read all of that in Arthur's harsh stare and he laughed happily, his eyes crinkling as he looked at him.

"Arthur." he called, locking the car and watched as Martin hooked his arm around Doris'. "They've got your favourite, cat food."

"It's called squid, Eames." Arthur sighed and rolled his eyes. "Stop playing more stupid than you really are." Eames smirked and nudged his shoulder, making him lose his feet and stumble a few steps to the left.

"Fuck off, Eames." he scoffed, not daring to show that he was amused.

"Oh behave." Eames grinned and held the door open for him.

The Solomons had already snatched a table. Lunch was over for the workers and the staff looked tired after the daily rush of people. Most of the tables were still stuffed with dishes but Doris had managed to find a clean one by the window with a view over the backyard gardem.

Eames liked this place. Not only was it easy to find parking but it was also a nice restaurant. The food was good, the interior design was pleasant and the view over the small garden was inspired by the old Japanese culture. The sakura flowers had already been blooming and fallen, but the pink petals were covering the grass like colourful snow; floating in the pond and swirling around on the surface as the small fountain poured a stream of clear water.

"It's quite a sight." Doris said clasping her hands together under her chin. "Can't believe it still so warm here. My jacked was a waste."

"I told you on the phone that the weather was warm." Arthur said with a tone that sounded more accusing than it should.

"Says the man running around in shorts 'til December." Martin countered and opened the menu resting on the table, more hiding a teasing smile than deciding what to order.

"December" Eames questioned with a frown as he looked over at Arthur sitting beside him.

"It was collage days. I had one pair of pants and I cut them short for summer and couldn't afford new ones for the winter. Shame on me."

"You were running around in your pants!?" Eames scoffed, staring at him like he was something from out of this world.  
"Pants!" Arthur said. "American. Meaning trousers."

"Oh, right." Eames said in relief and buried his head into the menu before he said something more that stupid. Doris giggled and accepted the glass of water from the waiter, took a huge gulp like he hadn't had anything to drink since Ohio.

They ordered and as the waiter took the menus silence fell across the table. It had been a long time since he'd felt this uncomfortable. He had never met a potential lovers parents before. He'd had a girlfriend once who wanted to take him for dinner at her parents. Just the idea of it had made him realise that maybe he didn't love her after all. It was a crucial thing after all; the whole parents thing. Once you've met them a relationship was on a whole new level. It was a big deal and sitting here with Arthur's parents was something he'd never intended. He'd dreamt about it, but he never thought it would come true.

"So, mr Eames." Martin piped up rather loudly. His arms crossed as he leaned over the table. "Do you have another name or is it just Eames?"

Arthur's eyes grew comically as the question reached his ears and he turned his head to Eames. Realising that not even he knew his first time. Eames felt like he was standing at the gallows. It wasn't many people who knew his first name, mainly because he didn't want any one to call him by that name.

Taking a sip of water he swallowed the lump that had settled in his throat and braised himself. This was worse than coming out of the closet to his brother.

"It's Thomas." he said and glanced over at Arthur who eyes him like a circus animal. "Thomas Eames. But please call me Eames." He sounded more miserable than he intended and Martin realised quickly that he'd probably stubbed a toe asking that question. He nodded, looking over at Arthur who blinked at his friend.

"Eames." he said like he was tasting the name. "Eames it is." Then he gave Eames a smile. One of those fatherly smiles that Eames never been given before and something fired through him like someone had stabbed him in the heart. He lowered his eyes and clasped his hands together under the table. This shouldn't upset him as much as it did.

"Arthur told us you're working with art." Doris said and Eames let out a small laugh. It was a lie but at the same time the truest thing he could say. He was a forger, a thief, studying to copy, create illusions to fool people just like painting could do. "What exactly is it that you do?"

"I, um..." he cleared his throat, lifting his heavy head again and quirked an eyebrow. "I examine sculptures. Singling out falsified objects or prove their authenticity."

"Oh." Doris beamed, suddenly very interested. "That's an interesting job. You must have quite a background of studying."

Before Eames' could open his mouth and continue to build on that lie Arthur cleared his throat.

"We're not really here to discuss Eames', are we?" he said and moved his arms away as a plate of grilled squid was placed before him. "Stop interrogating him." His brown eyes glowed in the soft lights from the faux sakura tree placed in the corners, its flowers blinking in bright pink and purple. Arthur had given his mother a sharp look and she blinked a couple of times before she remembered why she was really here.

"Of course." she sighed, lowered her head and stared emptily at her food.

"Mom..." Arthur sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, realising the harsh words that had slipped his tongue. "I didn't mean..."

"No, you're right." Martin said and shrugged his shoulders apologetically. "We're just happy to finally meet him, it's all." Eames wanted to sink through the floor by those words.

"I know." Arthur said through gritted teeth and looked like he, too, could use a diversion. "Just... not today."

Martin cleared his throat, loud and proud, fidgeting on his chair as his food was placed before him and gave his son a sharp glare. Eames was suddenly not that hungry anymore. He picked at his chicken, moved it around with his chop sticks as a uncomfortable silence settled between them once more, and he kept his head low when Arthur suddenly said- "I'm sorry." The man sighed heavily and ran a hand through his clean waves. "I haven't slept well, that's all."

"We know, sweetie." Doris said lovingly with a concerned face. "But you can't blame us for being curious." She turned to Eames and leaned over the table, probably seeing Arthur's apology as an invitation to continue her query. "Arthur's told us about you after you worked together on that designer project." Yet another lie, Eames thought but looked up from his plate. "He came home so giddy and we've been wondering ever since who this Eames-boy was that finally put a smile on out boy's face."

"Mother!" Arthur exclaimed, cheeks rosy pink in embarrassment.

"It's alright, Arthur." Eames said, carefully avoiding his usual usage of the word darling. "Mr and mrs Solomon could just as well have come here hating me." He gave Arthur the crocked smile that back in the days had made the man calm but Arthur was having none of it. He shook his head, lowering it between his shoulders as he let the shame swell.

"Just, not now." he said and took a huge, shivering breath, obviously holding back new tears and Eames saw the parents bite their tongues. It seemed like Arthur had those kind of parents that liked to put their noses where they didn't often belong; and maybe Arthur usually brushed it off like nothing. But today that wasn't the case. He could take it anymore and he let out a small moan between gritted teeth as he repressed the anger bubbling in him. "I said goodbye to my little sister less than twelve hours ago." he said calmly lifting his head again, eyes his parents with fire. "I don't have the energy to review my personal life right now. And please, leave poor Eames alone."

This time the Solomons seemed a little more understanding. They listened to their son's outbursts without interrupting and a look of shame and grief past their faces as Arthur was done.

Arthur cleared his throat, turned away as the sight of his parents only might make him cry again and he sighed loudly to calm himself down. He couldn't panic here. Not in a public place. But his tries were reluctant to help and the tears and sobs throbbed in his throat when nothing more than a simple touched made it all stop. Under the table, hidden from the elderly couples sight, Eames had placed a warm hand on his knee. Suddenly it was simple to swallow the tears and he cleared his throat as he started to relax again.

"I'm sorry." Doris said suddenly, her hands twinning a napkin as she spoke. "Sweetie, I'm so sorry. I'm just..."

"You're mother is shocked." Martin cut in, his big hand landing on her shoulder a little too heavy as the smaller woman nearly caved under its weight. "She should have a glass of wine to calm her nerves." And with that he raised his hand and snapped his finger in a very american way at one of the waitresses.

"It's eleven, thirty." Arthur frowned and Eames frowned. His head suddenly scrambled by the impressions he'd gotten about the Solomons. Something was feeling quite odd.

"It's five o'clock somewhere." Martin answered and ordered a glass of pink wine for his wife who currently wiped a pair of heavy tears.

"Geez." Arthur sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"You had an early coffee yourself." Eames murmured, the words only meant for Arthur who quickly remembered the strong drink he'd had at the airport and he realised that he shouldn't be judging.

"So..." Doris mumbled after another minute of silence. "Did Marianne... Was she awake at some point?"

"No." Arthur said quickly, not trying to think about it. "No, she um... She wasn't really _there _when I saw her." Doris swallowed a stuttering breath as she nodded, taking a huge sip of her wine. "I where with her for half an hour before they took her for surgery. Then they just - took her."

"Time of death?" Martin asked simply.

"I don't know. I left when the nurse told me they were done." He played with his chop sticks and let out a heavy puff of air as the memory passed his brain. "It was really hard, alright." With those words his mother leaned over the table and took his hand in his; the chop sticks clattering on his plate.

"I know, baby, and we're so sorry." she said, bottom lip shaking as she spoke.

"No, I'm sorry." Arthur said quickly as his voice trembled by his words. His head bowed he stared at his plate, wiped a pair of fleeing tears while he squeezed his mother's hand. "You should have been there, you know. You should have gotten the chance to say goodbye as well." Eames brushed his thumb back and forth over Arthur's knee, licked his lips as he let his gaze fall upon this lovely man.

"We'll say goodbye in our own way." Martin said, still not appearing to be bothered by his daughter's death. "Don't you worry about us, son."  
"We're just happy you didn't have to spent your night alone after such a thing." Doris said and passed Eames a quick glance. "And we're even more happy that Marianne wasn't alone during her last hours."

Tears were now falling freely down her blushing cheeks. Her greying hair had loosened from her bun and framed her face in a way so her sharp features only reminded Eames more how much Arthur looked like her.

"I know." Arthur croaked and took his hand back to wipe his tears with the sleeve of his cardigan. "It just... really sucks. And I haven't gotten a good night sleep in a week and everything's just shit right now. And I'm really gonna miss her." He reach for the napkins in his pocket to blow his running nose. He was a real mess right now and he didn't know who had shamed him more in front of Eames. Himself or his parents. Cursing under his breath he threw himself back in his chair, wiped his tears with the heals of his shaking hands before hiding everything that'd just happened with a small smile. "But at least you're here now, right." He looked at his parents, clearing his throat and sneaking his hand under the table to place it on top of Eames'. "We'll clear out her room at the dorm in the morning and then we'll be heading back to the states before we know it."

Martin pursed his lips.

"Sure." he said simply as he nodded. "And maybe there's someone at the school we need to talk to. Her friends perhaps. They probably want to know what happened to her." Arthur nodded, stuffing a piece of squid into his mouth as now food was the only thing he could use as an escape.

Under the table Eames curled their fingers together, felt a smile twitching in the corners of his mouth as the warmth of Arthur rested in his palm. This was a fucked up time to hold hands with Arthur but he'd never cared less about anything. Every moment he could get he would seize even if it was selfish. He didn't have time to care now. After all this was time he shouldn't have been given in the first place. He cradled Arthur's hand in his own like a baby bird, caressed the pad of his thumb over his knuckles and sighed. Holding Arthur's hand was a wonderful thing.

"We'll get through this." Doris said out of the blue as for a large amount of time she'd sat in silence sipping her wine. "Just as we got through Bob's death."

"That was different." Arthur said quietly and sniffled. "We saw it coming this-"

"We'll get through it!" his mother said again, this time stubbornly and Arthur silenced. "We will. Just like with Bob."


	3. Chapter 3

There's something about hospitals that does not agree with Eames. The smell of disinfectants and and plastic is just terrible. The colours are pastel blue and green and there's cheap art on the walls showing landscapes and city lines and he hates it.

The worst thing is the memories. There's a lot of things waking up in his head that's been buried for years and as he sits alone in the waiting room he finds himself thinking about it.

He don't know how many months his mother spent here but it has to me more than a year. He remember her shrinking in her bed. Her skin going more and more grey until nearly translucent and Eames remembers every stop at Tesco where he bought her a packet of Jaffa cakes before every visit. The memory of bitter chocolate and sweet orange makes him groan and he leans back on the couch.

The morgue is somewhat better than the rest of the hospital. There's no one complaining, no stress, no sound of beeping heart monitors. There's just a complete calm.

It's eerie.

But still calm.

Arthur and his parents' been in there for an hour now and Eames' nursing a cup of tea while he waits. He was offered to come inside but he couldn't really bring himself to meet Arthur's sister like this. It's not that she's dead. It's just that if he sees her like that he'll never be able to have another picture of her than pale and on a slab and he didn't want that. What he wanted was for Arthur to build that picture for him; with stories and photographs he would get to know her without the memory of her dead body. It seemed fair to her.

After all he wished he could forget all those months he'd spent beside his mother's deathbed. He didn't regret it, it was just that it was the strongest memory he had of her now. Weak and sad. She didn't deserve to end her life that way. And he didn't want to remember her like that.

He sighed heavily just in time for the door to swing open. Out came Arthur, surprisingly calm, but his eyes ravaged from the things he'd seen.

"We're going." he said, rubbed his upper arm looking half his size while he stared emptily around the room. "My parents are taking a cab later. They're tired. Jetlag."

"They didn't trust my driving then?" Eames joked standing up. Any other day Arthur would have laughed at that; but today Eames was only met by a blank face. He quickly closed his mouth.

"They're taking a cab." he said with a ghostlike voice as he turned towards the exit before harshly repeating: "We're leaving."

The tea forgotten on the table Eames stood up and followed the man out through the glass door, a hunch landing in him that something had not gone well in there. He decided quickly not to question it either until they were alone.

Arthur hurried over to the car and pulled the handle before Eames even had time to unlock it. The alarm echoed over the parking lot and a flustered Arthur raised his hands in the air to show his submission to the vehicle. Closing his eyes he took a deep breath to calm himself while Eames took care of it.

After that the world turned utterly quiet.

Arthur stared blankly at the car, breathed heavily while pulling his hair by his roots. Eames still didn't question it.

"Where are we going, darling?" he asked quietly and titled his head to the side, observing the man with sad eyes. The man sniffled.

"To your place. I um..." He sighed heavily and opened the door.

"Wrong side, love." Eames smiled sadly and Arthur slammed it closed with a low growl.

"This fucking country." he mumbled as he made his way around the car. "What's wrong with you?" Eames opened the door for him and Arthur slipped inside with his usual grace, slammed it behind him and went almost slack in the seat.

For a nanosecond Eames was just standing there. He tried not to think about what Arthur had been going through in there but it wasn't easy. Before he disappeared in his thought to far he shook his head and ran over to the other side of the car and slipped in. He sank down in the seat and turned the key, listened to the engine for a couple of seconds before glancing over to Arthur's side.

"You okay?"

"Not here." Arthur answered quickly. "Let's go back to your shitty apartment so I can have a nap." Eames turned his head fully towards him. Arthur looked - tired. More than tired. Totally exhausted. Maybe he hadn't slept as much as Eames last night after all.

"Okay." he sighed and backed up the car while Arthur slowly let his eyes slip closed in the passenger seat.

* * *

If Arthur had been almost thirty years younger Eames would have carried him into the flat. Looking at him sleeping in the seat only made Eames fall in love with him more. The dark hair was still a mess on his head, his jaw slack and his breaths deep and calm.

And Eames stared, felt a smile twitch at the corners of his lips as the man beside him whimpered in his dreams. He should wake him up, but not just yet. What could another second do? Arthur was a beautiful man. An angel from above. Only those dimples were created by the devil.

"Arthur?" He reached out and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. Arthur only hummed in response but managed to turn his head. "We're back."

"Already?" Arthur moaned and opened his dark eyes to see yet another parking lot. "Jesus." He rubbed the side of his face and sighed heavily. "I slept the whole way?"

"Pretty much." Eames smiled and unhooked his seatbelt. "You can finish your kip inside if you want."

"Your bed is a shame to the world." Arthur groaned as he pushed himself upright in the seat. "It's like lying on a pile of sawdust."

"Don't be such a child." Eames grinned and tossed himself out of the car before Arthur had time to complain again. "C'mon. I'll put the kettle on."

* * *

The light in the kitchen went off as he turned on the kettle. The water had gone from cold to hot without warning burning his hand as he'd filled it and he stood now swatting it in the air while dropping PG tips into two mugs.

"This really is a shitty apartment." Arthur mumbled from the bed as the light flickered over the kitchen island cutting bed and living room from the kitchen.

"It has a roof which is good enough for me." Eames smiled. "Lumps?"

"Two. But only if it's that bitter stuff, otherwise one." Eames put in three and added a a plash of milk.

"Here we go, darling." he smiled and placed the cups on the table with a plate of chocolate hobnobs. "Tea's served."

"Normal people drink coffee." Arthur groaned and rolled out of bed with his hair sticking out at all the wrong places. He stumbled off to the table and plopped down heavily with a loud sigh.

"If you're gonna keep up like this, England will throw you out." Eames joked with a crocked grin that made another appear on Arthur's lips and suddenly the man realised something.

"I'm sorry." he said stirring his tea, looking at the swirl in the milky liquid while that little smile adorned his face. "I've been acting like an ass."

"It's alright. You've been through a lot since yesterday." Eames countered and sipped his drink only to realise it was way too hot.

"Yeah but... I didn't mean coming here acting like a first class jerk. Sorry." He took a sip of his tea, not noticing Eames ridiculous grin from across table. "Ugh, still bitter." He reached for his fourth and fifth lump of sugar and stirred them in like the sweet tooth he'd always been before taking a second sip. This time he looked very satisfied. "You know, I actually meant to come here." he said suddenly. "After I was done in Germany that is." Eames lifted his gaze.

"Really?" he asked and shoved the plate of biscuits closer to his partner who nicked one quicker than Jet Lee.

"I was thinking making my way down to France, get a bag of those madeleines you're so fascinated about, take the train here and force you to brew some tea."

Eames laughed and watches as Arthur dips his biscuit into his teeth rotting tea.

"Well, hobnobs are just as fascinating." he said squirming on his chair. He was not proud to say he was probably blushing by Arthur's words. This beautiful man going to France only to pick up his favourite cookies and then travel several hours in darkness just for him was indeed a very romantic thought. He tried very hard not to look like a school girl. "Or maybe we could have picked up those madeleines together if you'd just given me a call."

"You would have gone to France for cookies?" Arthur grinned quite not believing it.

"Not just for the cookies." Eames answered simply and took a sip from his tea.

* * *

"Last time I saw her she had this weird braid in her hair. You know one of those you can see elves have it those movies, whatever their names are."

"Lord of the rings?"  
"What ever. Anyway, the braid got stuck in the corner of a picture frame in the living room and down came the whole Solomon family. Crashing to the floor, glass flying all over the place. She looked more spooked than concerned. She said it was like the house wouldn't let her go because she'd stuck to everything. Jumpers, belt hooks, hair. There was always something in the house trying to pin her down or refusing her to leave the room. A week later she left for London. Maybe the house knew."

"Doubt it."

They were lying on their backs on Eames bed, staring up at the white roof and had been for the last hour. After the tea their bellies had been hot, their heads tired and they'd just fallen backwards on the mattress with no intentions of getting up soon.

Arthur was biting his nails and endlessly, talking about everything that came to his mind. Eames tried hard not to fall asleep even though he really wanted to. Yet it was nice.

"Did I tell you about that time we were mistaken for twins?"

"No." Eames grumbled even though it was a lie. It was probably the third time he would hear it now.

"She cut her hair short when she was thirteen and we were at this housewarming party across the street. A hispanic couple had moved in and had arranged this gathering to get to know the neighbourhood and Marianne dressed up in a pair of jeans and a shirt with a picture of Robbie Williams. The wife thought we were the cutest pair of boys she'd ever seen and me and Marianne had a blast fooling around until our neighbour next door heard about and got hysterical." Eames hummed happily and pulled his hand free from under his head and let it fall between them.

"Robbie Williams, huh?" he mumbled, that was a new piece of detail. "Most have been fun listening to his music for the years your sister was obsessed." Arthur laughed and wiggled back and forth on the bed before making his confession.

"It was my shirt." he said and Eames opened his eyes to stare at him.

"What?" Arthur threw his hands in the air and shrugged.

"He was the man that made me realise I was gay." he confessed quite happily. "After that I was in the closet for years and had many other beautiful men hidden away under my bed. But Robbie Williams was the first." The suddenly interested Eames rolled over on his side and propped his head up on a pillow to get a proper view of Arthur's face during this story.

"Who were the others?" he asked and Arthur turned his face towards him and gave him a ridiculous grin.  
"No I'm not gonna tell you that."

"Oh c'mon! I'll tell you mine." Eames pleaded and Arthur pulled a face that showed something between disgust and intrigue.

"Alright. But it's your turn. I've already said one." Even Arthur rolled over on his side and they laid nose to nose on the crowded bed. Eames had missed this. "So Eames. Who made you realise you were gay."

"I'm not gay, remember. I'm bi." Eames corrected but Arthur just swatted away his words as they were unimportant to him. "Alright." He bit his lip and gave it a thought. "It must have been Steven Fry. Not just him but the way he talked about all the ways you can be different. I was eleven at the time and realised that maybe it wasn't just the girls at school that were pretty. Not long after that I had two crushes in my class. Lauren Taylor and Timothy Becket." Arthur's cheek dimpled and Eames had to fight the urge to reach out and caress his finger over his cheek. "It took me a while thought to understand that there were other sexualities than just straight and gay."

This went on for at least an hour. Every crush Eames could remember he told Arthur and he was a bit surprised by himself as he looked back at the people he'd once fancied. Arthur came with some unbelievable people too like Robert Downey Jr and Sean Connery, and Eames was pretty happy to listen to him. Different crushes could tell a lot about a person growing up and right now Eames understood that Arthur hadn't always been such a prude.

"So how did you come out of the closet?" he asked, suddenly realising his fingers had climbed up Arthur's arm and now drew circles around his elbow. He didn't stop though.

"It a pretty funny story." he giggled and nudged a foot between Eames' shins were there was a familiar warmth for his icy toes. "I was nearly depressed from the pressure in school. Everyone was having girlfriends and my mom kept questioning me about pretty girls in class and one day when it was just the two of us in the house I told her. She stared at me for a while before saying that maybe it would pass. I got so mad I threw a glass candle across the room and stomped off to my room. She came into my room later, finding me on bed and excused herself. She told me she was okay with it and asked me if I wanted her to tell dad. I hid in my room the rest of the day and when I heard my dad come home towards the evening my stomach turned. Then I could hear him shouting happily up the stairs 'I KNEW IT!' and ever since then no one has questioned it."

Thinking it was the funniest thing he'd heard in a long while, Eames burst out laughing.

"Oh christ!" he cried. "Are you serious."

"Yeah." Arthur laughed. "I've never been so relieved in my life. My dad took it better than my mom. Who knew?"  
"Oh my god, I love your parents." Eames smiled finding himself edging just a little closer.

"What about you? Did you ever tell your parents? Does your dad know?" Eames laughter lessened into a sad smile and Arthur's dimples disappeared. "Sorry. Maybe I shouldn't have asked."

"No, it's okay." Eames said. "My dad is just... a pure conservative bastard who thinks gay people steals all the money out of society and shit. And I never told my mum. Didn't have a chance before she passed." Arthur pursed his lips.

"I'm sorry." he said sadly and wrapped his arm around Eames' waist.

"It's okay. I never really wanted him in my life anyway. My love for men was just a bonus of keeping him away. He hasn't run off with my money for years now. I'm actually richer since he moved back to Wales." He laughed sadly at the memory. "When I actually told him he was so shocked he stood silent for like a minute. We'd just been arguing about something and it just came out. Well, I came out. After that minute of silence he walked out and drove off with his car. He called me five hours later yelling at me how I was a shame to the family. I left the phone in the cutlery drawer and came back an hour later to him still shouting."

"God." Arthur said not knowing if he should laugh or not. "What an asshole."  
"Meh," Eames shrugged and pulled a face. "I don't need his approval. It's worth nothing to me."

"Still." Arthur said rubbing his thumb back and forth over Eames' lowest rib.

They's been in bed like this before. Only naked and barely awake. Sun had been rising over the rooftops and they were already late to the airport but Arthur had refused to get up. This time they had all the time in the world, and they were not going anywhere. Eames didn't think he'd ever been this relaxed in Arthur's presence before.

"Were you serious about coming here after Germany?" he asked carefully.

"Of course I was. Maybe not about France but I was definitely making my way here afterwards." he smiled. "I've missed you. I really have. And I thought Germany was close enough to give you a visit." Eames beamed at him and felt a familiar heat around his ears and cheeks. God, he hadn't blushed this much since high school.

"I've missed you too, prick." he smiled and moved forward to place a quick kiss on his lips. All this without thinking and before he knew it had already happened. It wasn't anything more than a peck but enough to feel his stomach turn in regret. He shouldn't have done that. He really shouldn't have done that. Keeping his eyes closed, afraid of the meeting of Arthur's disapproving scowl, he pulled his head back a couple of inches.

Then there was another quick kiss. Nothing more than just another pair of lips brushing across his own and there was a flutter inside his chest as he opened his eyes to see Arthur blushing just as much as he probably was.

"That took you a while, didn't it?" Arthur chuckled as his fingers dug a little deeper into Eames' ribs. His brown eyes drilled themselves into the bottom of Eames' soul and whatever Eames was thinking right now Arthur could see everything right through him.

"It just seemed like a bad time yesterday." he answered and brought his hand up to Arthur's face to brush a lock of hair behind his pointy ear.

"Yeah." Arthur sighed sadly but kept that little smile plastered on his lips before leaning forward to place yet another kiss to the corner of Eames' mouth. "I don't think I would have mind though." Eames kissed him back.

"Do you mind now?" he asked between the feathery touches of lips against lips.

"Idiot." Arthur mumbled and moved a bit closer until they were chest to chest. Arthur's arm was flung over Eames, his nails digging into his back as he pulled him closer. The two years of longing turning into a journeying that none of them could deny.

Eames nipped his lips and felt his heart nearly explode by the longing he was giving into. He could finally kiss Arthur. He could actually kiss Arthur. Carding his hands through his hair he couldn't help the smile appearing on his full lips. The longing he'd had for so long had been awful but he could finally give into it.

"I've really missed this." he whispered and pulled Arthur so close that he was almost lying on top of him. "I've missed you." Arthur giggled, pulled back just a tad to look down at his Eames that gazed back with warmth. The dimples adorned his face and Eames could help himself but caress the pad of his thumb over the left one that was slightly deeper than the other.

"I've missed this too." Arthur said happily and rubbed his hand across Eames' chest. "D'you remember last time?"

"That shitty hotel with a so called casino in the lobby?" Eames grinned as he thought back on the memory.

"You lost a hundred dollars in that shitty casino, idiot." Arthur laughed and relaxed on top of him until his head rested on his shoulder. "I'm still sorry my plane left three hours before yours. What did you do on your own during all that time?"

"I had a beer at one of the pubs, waited it out." Eames answered simply. "Nothing special." He carded a hand through Arthur's hair and sighed heavily.

"I've been meaning to come here for months." Arthur said sadly. "But something always seemed to come up. I even had tickets last year but then my grandfather passed and I had to help out with the funeral."

"I had tickets too." Eames confessed and played with the slim fingers splayed across his chest. "Two months since we last saw each other. I was gonna go but I caught a flu and had to cancel it all."

"Oh." Arthur mumbled and took his hand in his own. "I would have loved it if you'd shown up."

"Me too." Eames said and pressed his lips to his forehead. He buried his nose in his dark hair and took a deep breath filled with his scent. How could a person smell so great? Even thought he'd used the products stuffed in Eames' shower he still smelled better than anything in the world.

A comfortable silence settled between them. The only thing heard was the buzzing of bad piping and the rumbling of cars down the street. It felt like no time had passed between them even though they'd aged two years since the last time they held each other. The comfortable weight that was Arthur on top of him was more familiar than many other things in Eames' life and as he pressed him tighter to his chest he could feel their hearts beating the same rhythm.

"Arthur?" he whispered and got a response in the form of a tired hum. "What happened before? At the morgue?" Arthur's body went tense and Eames quickly regretted his words even if he had to know.

"They um..." Arthur mumbled and cleared his thick throat. His grip hardened slightly around Eames' hand. "The autopsy showed a growth. They've sent it for testing but um... it appears that my sister might have had some form of brain cancer."

"What?" Eames frowned and turned his head towards Arthur. "Cancer?"

"Yeah." Arthur moaned, his eyelashes flicking to Eames' jawbone. "Maybe this car accident was meant to be, you know. Cancer treatments are... terrible."

"I know." Eames agreed. He did. He'd seen cancer consume his mother like she'd been compost. The treatments were painful and long lasting. If Marianne really had had cancer, Eames could probably say that this accident had been a lucky escape.

"Bob grandfather. The one who died." Arthur said quite suddenly and Eames quickly remembered the discussion at the restaurant. "He was diagnosed last year. He had the diagnoses for a week before his body gave up on him. We barely had time to say our goodbyes before he was dead. So um.. yeah. I just wanted you to know."

"Oh..." Eames sighed and rubbed a hand roughly over Arthur's arm. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah." Arthur mumbled and relaxed once again on top of Eames. "My mom took it pretty hard. It was quite sudden so..." He sighed heavily and pushed himself up from the bed to look down at Eames.

"It's been rough." Eames suggested and Arthur nodded and wiped a tear fleeing down to Eames' shoulder.

"Fuck." he whimpered and sniffled miserably. "Sorry. I'm just tired." Eames hushed him and placed a loving kiss to his forehead.

"Don't worry about it." he whispered. "Cry all you want." A small sob fled Arthur's lips as he turned his face to Eames' shoulder were tears were buried with shame.

"I'm a such mess." he cried angrily, so ashamed of himself that he wanted to punch something. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright." Eames whispered and held him tight. "It would be odd if you weren't a mess right now." Arthur clawed at his arm as he let out yet another whimper and Eames carded a hand through his hair and tickled his scalp.

"I'm so fucking tired." Arthur huffed and went suddenly limp on top of Eames. His limbs falling slack around them and his head sinking deeper into the nape of Eames' neck.  
"Have a nap then." he whispered and grazed his nails back and forth over Arthur's spine. "I'll be right here."

"I can't just sleep on you." Arthur said laughing behind his heavy tears.  
"You've done it before. You can do it now." Eames grinned and Arthur huffed in amusement where he laid. "Just go to sleep, alright.

And Arthur did.


	4. Chapter 4

Sorry for the delay of this chapter. School has just been really hectic and I've hardly had any time for writing anything else than essays.

This is a short chapter, I know, but I just can't bare to put anything else in since that will ruin the beginning of the next.

* * *

Eames woke up with a patch of warm drool on his shoulder. It was undoubtedly Arthur's, who was still cuddled up in his arms, snoring slightly and eyes puffy from the latest tears.

Smiling, Eames carded his fingers through his dark hair, nuzzled the tip of his nose to his forehead. His weight was something he'd missed. It was so familiar and comfortable and as Eames tossed his arms around him he felt like coming home. Now when he was able to hold him he was going to fucking hold him.

"I can't breathe." Arthur croaked into his neck and Eames hummed happily.

"I don't care." he murmured and pressed his lips to his brow. Arthur laughed tiredly and held onto his shoulders as Eames rolled them around. Arthur landed on the bed with Eames on top of him and he wrapped arms and legs around him as quick as a cat. "Feeling better now, are we?"

Arthur hummed into the nape of Eames' neck, felt the stubble of his chin tickle his cheek and he couldn't hold back the small scoff teasing his throat.

"Starting to." he said cuddling yet a little deeper into Eames nook. "A cup of strong coffee would probably wake me up."

"I have some in the cupboard, I could make you one if you'd like." Arthur sighed in some relief that seemed excessive for just a drink.

"Would you?" he asked and pushed himself off the man until he landed on his back beside him. His hair stood out in just the wrong places after all those times Eames had run his fingers through them and he wished he could do it a bit more before he had to get out of bed to make him that sodding coffee. "Make it as dark as my soul."

"As dark as mine then." Eames said and finally managed to get up with a heavy grunt. "Sugar?"

"Don't you dare." Arthur said and wrapped himself tightly in the duvet. Once again he looked like a small child that had appeared out of the blue at the wrong side of the pond and Eames wanted nothing more than to snap a photo and hang it on his fridge.

Eames made the coffee, finding himself tossing a glance across the kitchen island just like he was making sure that Arthur was still there while he buttered up a couple of toasts for them to nibble on. It was such a domestic scene looking from the outside. It felt like maybe he should clean a drawer out if they had had more time.

And if Arthur had had anything to put in it.

He wondered where he kept all of his suits.

Arthur drew a huge breath through his nose and a crinkle appeared between his eyebrows.

"Are you cooking?"

"If you call toasts cooking?" Eames said and gave Arthur a huge grin as he lifted his head off the pillow to look at him.

"D'you have chocolate spread?" Of course that sweet tooth wanted chocolate spread, Eames thought with a shake of the head before taking out the Nutella from the cupboard. Arthur sprang out of the bed like a child on christmas.

"It's not marmite." he ensured as Arthur stuck his nose in the jar to have a whiff.

"I can never be sure of you, can I?" Arthur smiled and stuck a butter knife into the creamy goodness that had been a curse for children for countless of years. Buttering his toast Eames was sure he could see a sparkling glee being awoken inside of Arthur.

Biting into it only made it worse.

"Oh god." Arthur moaned like he'd just been sexually pleasured by sugar. "I haven't had this for years." Plopping down on one of the chairs he continued to nibble his toast noisily.

"Good?" Eames asked teasingly as he placed the cup of steaming coffee before him before sitting down himself.

"So good." Arthur answered him with an eye roll of disbelief before taking another, large bite. "There's such a huge difference between european Nutella and american. Your's is so much better."

"I know." Eames grinned and bit into his own that had a decent amount of marmalade and butter.

Arthur licked his fingers as he finished his toast and turned to his sweet tea; gulped it down like a dry man finding a waterhole in the dessert. It was weird seeing Arthur eating with such gusto. Usually he scowled at food like nothing was good enough for him. A day on the job was often filled with coffee and maybe some salty crisps if it was close by.

And of course a bunch of sugar.

Arthur was the king of sweets.

"So." Eames said as he looked at the clock on his phone. "It's only five a'clock. Are we seeing your parents again or are we waiting until tomorrow?"

Licking his lips clean from sugar and tea Arthur smile lessened on his lips. The feeling of stress sparked through the air again and Eames couldn't help the ice settling in his stomach even though he had to ask that question. Arthur was a man of planing and routine, and today Eames felt the need to help him back on track.

"We're going to her dorm tomorrow." he said with a voice that sounded hollow and childlike. "We're packing what we can and sending it home." His slim fingers played with the sleeve of his shirt nervously as he spoke, flicked the button like it was a painful scab he couldn't stop picking at. "Then we're planning our trip back." He looked up at Eames; eyes dark and filled with fear. "We need to plan the funeral."

Nodding was all Eames could do because if he opened his mouth right now he was afraid do say something that would make Arthur understand his disappointment. Of course this was a time of sorrow and that their time together would be brief. Still he felt that nagging, selfish feeling that he wanted to keep Arthur for himself. A couple of hours was not enough. He wanted time they didn't have.

He looked at Arthur with kind eyes, formed his lips into something he could not quite call a smile and sighed.

"When all this is over, maybe I should come see our house." he said already realising his mistake. "Your!" he hurried and shook his head. "Your house." He knew he shouldn't have opened his mouth.

"You really should." Arthur said laughing and suddenly Eames words had done more than just bring shame to him. "I have a sink in my bathroom that works."

* * *

Arthur left the next morning. It had been hard for the both of them. They's stayed in Eames hallway nearly ten minutes just holding each other, kissed each other with small promises that Eames would indeed come to America when all had settled; that he would see Arthur's house and that Eames would bring a jar of Nutella.

Then he'd stepped out that door and Eames had watched from the window as he disappeared down the street in the cab. It hurt to once again let go of that man. That perfect bastard with pointy ears and way to expensive clothes. He shouldn't like him as much as he did.

As the cab disappeared around the corner her turned back to the room. The clothes Arthur had borrowed was neatly folded and placed on the chair he used as a nightstand, the plate smeared with chocolate spread was still on the table and the side Arthur had slept on on the bed was wrinkled from all his tossing and turning.

Yet it was like he'd never been here.

Licking his lips he slowly accepted that he was once again alone like these last couple of days had been nothing more than a dream. He felt like crying.

He slammed down on the bed and buried his head in Arthur pillow, taking a deep breath and felt his heart leap as it still smelled of him. The sharp smell of sandalwood from his hair, the oaky scent from his perfume. It was like breathing in a forest, only Eames could only think of hotel rooms and suits.

"Fuck this." he sighed angrily and fell asleep.

* * *

Once again he was awoken by his phone. Opening his eyes with his face deeply buried in the pillow he saw nothing but darkness while flailing for his phone on the floor.

"Hello?" he groaned and lifted his head, blinded by the bright light.

"I'm such an idiot." Arthur voice said and Eames was clear awake.

"Arthur!?"

"Look. I dunno if this is inappropriate or... what ever it is but... um... I'd like to invite you to the funeral."

Eames choked.

"I know it's weird and all but... I'd be very happy if you'd come to Ohio with me."

Eames was suddenly sitting up in his bed, staring out over the darkened room that was just as filled as the rest of his life; quivering with anticipation.

"Arthur, I..."

"I know. I know it's sudden and... somewhat an odd request but... I feel bad not inviting you after all you had to deal with this week. So, you don't have to if you don't want to but if you want to would you come?" He had to coverer the mic with his hand so Arthur couldn't head him laugh.

"You're rambling." he said when he'd smothered the feeling blossoming in his chest.

Arthur was suddenly very quiet on the other side and Eames felt his lips go wide from his smile.

"Of course I'll be there, Arthur." he said a little too happily and he could literally hear Arthur deflate over the line.

"You sure?"

"I'm sure." Eames said, trying not to make his voice sound as happy as he looked. "I know I've never met your sister, but I might as well have since I feel like I've known her forever after all the stories I've heard."  
There was a sound. Not quite a laugh or a sob, but something perfectly in between and Eames went warm all through.

"So um..." Arthur mumbled with an unsteady voice. "D'you want me to book your flight? I'm just about to book our own."

"If you can stand an eleven hour flight with me, that would be great." Arthur made a little laugh and Eames could hear the echo of the bathroom where he was probably hiding from his parents. It felt weird. Like they were a couple of high school teenagers sneaking around with a forbidden gay romance.

"I'll make sure my parent's are in another isle." he said and Eames chuckled in delight.

"No, Arthur. I don't want to be they bloke who makes something uncomfortable between you and your parent. Are you sure it's okay we're on the same plane?"

"It was their idea."

"Pardon?"

"They thought I was a complete halfwit for not inviting you after all your help."

"Halfwit? Have i rubbed off on you?"

"Shut up." He sounded happier now; his lungs filled with puffs of pretty laughter only meant for Eames to hear and his cheeks were now hurting as his smile grew wider. "I'll call you with a time tomorrow. We're aiming for tomorrow night if there's a plane that can squeeze in a coffin on short notice." The sentence ended with a small sound and Eames knew Arthur had stomped himself on the toe. That stupid bugger. Arthur sighed heavily and groaned. "So, I guess... I'll see you tomorrow."

"Sound about right." Eames smiled and carded a hand through his hair.

"Okay." Arthur huffed and gave him a little laugh. "Good night, Eames."

"Good night, Arthur."


End file.
